


Artistic Endeavors

by AppalachianApologies, BrightTerror



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Aaron Hotchner Acting as Spencer Reid's Parental Figure, Autistic Danger Magnets, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Gen, Gil Arroyo Acting as Malcolm Bright's Parental Figure, Hurt/Comfort, Malcolm Bright is a Danger Magnet, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Gil Arroyo, Rossi too, Spencer Reid is a Danger Magnet, Team as Family, aka theres a lot of dead bodies the team has to work with
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29045637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppalachianApologies/pseuds/AppalachianApologies, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightTerror/pseuds/BrightTerror
Summary: Bright and his team have reached nowhere with their latest serial killer, to the point where the case got out of their hands and the chief police invited the BAU to work on the case. Although neither teams are particularly thrilled about it, they try to put their biases behind them to solve the case. It doesn't take long for them to realize that their situations might be more similar than they had previously thought. Friendships will be formed, secrets will be uncovered and killers will be caught.____Prodigal Son/Criminal Minds crossover
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Dani Powell & Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid, Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell & JT Tarmel, Malcolm Bright & Spencer Reid
Comments: 35
Kudos: 92





	Artistic Endeavors

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! We are very excited to post our first chapter of our crossover. We had been talking about it since late september so its great to finally have it on the works.  
> This crossover takes place around season 7 of Criminal Minds and before Season 1, Episode 18 of Prodigal Son.  
> We hope you enjoy it!

As much as Helen hated to admit it, she’d much rather be at home than on her way to an art gallery. Her clients were excessively obnoxious that day, and she wanted nothing more than to watch dramatic TV on the couch with her cats.

But instead she’s wearing a tight dress with even tighter jewelry. 

When Thomas slipped his hand into hers, she couldn't help but sigh. It’s not that she didn’t want to go on a date with him, but now’s not exactly the best time. She was going to take a bath tonight. Maybe with those new bath salts.

“There’s a new exhibit opening today,” Thomas started, pulling Helen out of her thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“That’s why I brought you here,” He continued, “I wanted you to be the first to see the new exhibit.”

It’s sweet, she won’t deny that, but her feet absolutely ached. “Where is it?”

“Downstairs. It’s replacing the postmodern work.”

Helen just hummed again. The sooner they see the exhibit, the sooner they get to leave. And then she can take a bath.

After they turned the corner, Helen tightened her hand on Thomas’ own. “Sculptures? I thought that these were supposed to be oil paintings.”

With a frown, Thomas slowly answered, “Yeah. I uh, I thought so too. This is weird.”

Weird is a bit of an understatement, if Helen’s was completely honest. In front of them was a hyper realistic statue of a woman, completely naked, red paint looking like blood over the back and shoulders.

“This is kind of creepy,” Helen murmured, doing her best to take her eyes off the statue.

“Yeah, I think it’s,” Trailing off, Thomas squinted. “...is the paint moving?”

“What?”

“Dripping,” He expanded, pointing with a shaky finger. “The paint is still wet, it’s dripping.”

Helen could feel her heart drop out of her chest. “T-Thomas?”

“Huh?”

“I think that’s a real person. I think they’re dead.”

**________________ **

Malcolm walked into the precinct, sucking on a lemon sucker he got earlier from Gabrielle’s office and humming to the tune of a song. It had been a good day for him so far, the last few days had been looking up for him actually. He was in the middle of a case that they were nowhere near solving, every new kill the profile got more complicated as the leads they chased got less accurate. For any normal person that would not be good news, it would in fact be the opposite, but for Malcolm it was wonderful news. This case was perfect for him since he used murders to cope and to function (solving, not making). 

That being said, ever since he started working the case two weeks ago he had been working every waking second on it. No time to think of the girl in the box, no time to dwell on Eve leaving him to find her sister, no time to think about his father, it was absolutely splendid. He had been utterly intrigued when he first arrive to the crime scene at the art gallery, the first murder had been a woman, posing as a dancer, in the middle of a open gallery inauguration. It was a recreation of the famous “Little Dancer, aged fourteen” by Edgar Degas. But instead of it being a bronze statue it was an actual human corpse. 

The body had been set up in a wooden platform, literally nailed onto the board so the victim was standing up. Right foot forward, slightly pointing towards the outside while the left leg was pointing the other way. Her hands were tied together on her back to make it look like she was posing and she had been wearing a grey tutu with a golden corset. Both the corset and tutu were drenched in blood from the carvings in the body and from the corset being sown directly to the skin. The victim had been in mid twenties, brown short hair in a bun, and from out of town. Malcolm had recognised what the killer had been trying to copy, it hadn't been a very good impression but it was noticeable nonetheless. 

He had worked the entirety of the following week on it working on it, creating a profile. He thought he was close to catching them until the second body turned up the next week. It was another recreation of a famous work but more bloodied and with a dead body. It turned up at a different gallery and the only thing to connect the murders had been very unique markings in both the victims ankles: the killer’s signatures. That shifted his profile and he had to change a few things from it. 

Then a few days ago there had been a third murder. Where the body count escalated from one to two bodies. It was a rather messed up recreation of Michaelangelo’s sculpture “ _Pieta_ ”. A white, blonde woman, mid thirties was found wearing a rather bloodied white gown, suspended in a sitting position from wires attached under her skin to the ceiling. Her face and cheeks had been smudged with red from vertical cuts under the eyes to make it seem as if she was crying. She seemed to be cradling a man, early twenties, on her lap. Who was almost naked except for skin-colored tight boxers. On his legs and on his thighs he had various rows of cutting and carving, molding the skin to create the effects of clothing. 

That last kill had thrown Malcolm’s profile completely off the rails. Now that the third crime was linked to the Michelangelo statue, they had to account for any religious connections to the killers. Nothing made any sense. But that did not stop Malcolm from working the case, it in fact, motivated him more. He loved the weird cases. 

Which was exactly why he was in such a great mood as he went to work. Little did he know that his good day was about to take a full one-eighty turn in the next five minutes. 

He walked through the precinct with a smile, waving at people as he passed. He entered Gil’s office and threw what was left of his sucker on the trash. “Hey Gil, I had a new idea for the profile since they keep recreating famous--” 

“Bright” Gil interrupted him and stood up from his desk. He had to tell Malcolm the bad news before the others arrived. He himself just received the information not long ago and was dreading this conversation. 

Malcolm stopped talking and focused on Gil for the first time since he walked in. He could see the tired eyes and the eye bags. He had his two arms joint together and a tensed posture. Combine that with his pursed lips in a straight line, and Malcolm could clearly see something was up with Gil, something wrong. “What is it, Gil? What do you have to tell me?”

Gil huffed a laugh. “Am I that obvious, huh?” 

“Profiler, remember?” Malcolm smiled for a brief second before going back to the topic of conversation. “So, what is it?”

“There has been another murder,” Gil paused, trying to come up with the best way to tell his kid he might not continue working the case for long. 

“That’s great news, maybe this will help me tie some things to my working profile. Where is the location this time?” Malcolm lit up at the mention of another crime scene but that was quickly drowned out by the expression on Gil’s face. “There is a _but_ coming, isn't it?”

“Yeah.. another crime scene is definitely not a good thing, kid.” Gil shook his head. He would never fully understand Malcolm looking like a kid in a candy store every time he had a new crime scene to solve. He knew it was due to what his father did but there was still a sense of unrealism from it. “Look, this is the fourth location our serial killer has left behind, now having six murders charges on him, and my boss knows we aren't close to finding the guy who did it. Bright, the feds are going to be assisting us in this case.”

“What?! No, no, no.” Malcolm blurted out. “They can't be working here. The FBI hates me and will probably take me out of this case the second they see me. Gil, this is the first time in _months_ I have any sense of normalcy working the case, it keeps me busy.” He pleaded. The last time the feds had arrived, Colette had been there, and made it very clear to anyone who saw her that she hated him. Hell, she even tried to turn Dani against him.

“I know. Don't you think I would have done something about this if I had a choice?” Gil sighed. “I know you and the feds aren't exactly best buddies. Believe me, I'm definitely not thrilled by having them here after the whole John Warkins case, but we will have to work with it.”

“Have you told Dani and JT yet?” Malcolm asked. 

“No. I wanted to tell you first.” Gil scratched his goatee and glanced around to the outside of his office until he spotted Dani talking to JT at his cubicle. “I doubt they will be happy about this.” he mumbled to himself. 

“Do we even know who the feds are sending here? Because I would sure like to know how exactly i'm going to be hatecrimed these next few days.” Malcolm said dramatically. 

“I would normally say you are being dramatic but I’ve met the people you used to work with.” Gil went to open the door to his office and with a quick hand movement motioned the rest of his team to come in. “yes, I know who is coming, kind of, but I’d rather not repeat the whole thing twice.” he waited for Dani and JT to arrive. 

“Good morning Gil, Bright.”  
“Morning.” Both JT and Dani greeted as they entered the office. “Any leads?”

Gil waved at them then closed the door behind them. “Okay, let's get this over with.” he said mostly to himself then turned to face the rest of his team. “First things first, as of today there has been a new murder. Same MO as the last three, new art gallery this time. Before you ask any questions, Edrisa is already there but we won't be going there any time soon.” he ignored the huff from Malcolm as he rolled his eyes for the sake of continuing. “This time it was two bodies, making the total body count of six in two weeks and we have no solid leads. My boss has called in the FBI to assist us in this case.”

“Really?” Dani looked at Gil and crossed her arms. “Last time they were here it was a mess. They didn't even solve the case because they were too busy hating on Bright.” Dani wasn't liking the fact she would have to deal with the feds again. She didn't have any good memories when Collette showed up, making her doubt Bright and pitch her against her own team. She liked her team because they trusted each other, they had each other’s backs. But the feds? They had no moral backbone, it was clear Colette saw herself above her team and if she didn't agree with others she would completely shrug their ideas off. 

“Yeah, Gil. It doesn't sit right with me either.” JT frowned. If he would never work with the feds again it would still be too soon. Despite bright being so.. well, Bright, he was still part of his team. Even though sometimes he would be irked off by his impulsive, dumb decisions he still liked the guy. He still remembered vividly when Bright got kidnapped by Watkins and they didn't care. They were more concerned about finding their killer than rescuing the person. 

“Yeah, I'm not happy about this either but we cant do anything about it.” Gil reiterated. “But, good news amongst all of this mess; we won't have to deal with Colette or their team this time. The feds sent a different division of theirs to assist us.” 

Malcolm perked up at the information. “Different division?”

“Yeah, uh,” he picked up a paper he had on his desk which he had written the name of earlier. “The BAU.”

Malcolm looked like a combination of shocked, surprised and somewhat displeased. “ _Thee_ BAU? As in _the_ Behavioural Analysis Unit? As in, the unit consisting of possibly one of the best profilers out there?” 

“So you _do_ know them.” JT pointed out. “Great, this will be a mess.” If Malcolm knew them it meant they knew him and he really did not want another Colette situation. 

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Dani questioned. 

“Yes I know them, well I do but I don't. I know of them.” Malcolm explained quickly then pulled a face when he realised he probably made no sense. 

“Bright, not a single word that came out of your mouth made an ounce of sense.” JT raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, sorry.” Malcolm threw an apologetic smile and then explained. “Okay, so the Behavioural Analysis Unit consists of the top tier profilers. It was created by David Rossi and Jason Gideon, amongst others and their close cases rates are impressive.” He smiled but his team could tell it was somewhat of a pained smile. “So I know they exist, I just have never met them.”

“Then why do you sound all filled with resentment then?” Dani questioned. She wasn't harsh or judgy, just curious. 

Malcolm hunched his shoulders and sighed, pacing around the room. “Well, I might have been trying to apply to be a part of their team ever since I went to quantico. That was the main reason why I joined the FBI… but never got in.” he casted another very fake smile and shrugged. “I never received a follow up, or a ‘We are sorry but you didn't make the cut’ letters, nothing. Just, radio silence. I get my father is a serial killer but they could have the decency to tell me they dont want me there to my face.”

Gil cupped his hand on the back of his neck. “It's their loss, they don't know what a great asset they're missing.” Gil smiled proudly at him. 

Malcolm smiled and looked down at the floor. “Thanks, Gil.”

“So, they won't be hating on you like last time?” Dani asked. 

“Nope. Doubt they will know who I am so let's keep it that way.” 

“Got it.” Dani nodded and smiled at him. “No more conversations involving your serial killer father that we absolutely mention in every conversation. It sure will be a hard task.” she said sarcastically. Malcolm did mention Martin every now and then but it wasn't like he told everyone he met about it and it wasn't a topic of conversation between them. They were going to be fine.

“When are they arriving?” JT pursed his lips in a line. 

“They were called in about two hours ago.. So they should be here anytime now.” Gil scratched his forehead and put his hands in his pockets. “Once they are here we let them know what we have so far then we go check out the crime scene. Knowing the feds, they will want to accompany us there.” 

“You know… since I'm not technically, on paper, part of the team, can i go see the crime scene now? While you guys wait for the feds and I can start to profile the place before they kick us out of our own case?”

Gil huffed. “Since you are “technically, on paper, not part of the team” he quoted back to him, “You can't go to a crime scene without us.” 

“Edrisa knows me, I bet she can let me in with no problem.” Malcolm tried to argue. 

“No,” Gil shook his head. “You are staying here, just like all of us.” 

Malcolm huffed in annoyance. “Fine.”

“Besides, they are not going to kick us out of the case, they will work _with_ us.”

Malcolm laughed dryly and looked at Gil with wide eyes. “I used to work as a fed. ‘Working _with_ the cops’ is just a nice way to say ‘this is our case now but you can stick around, as a treat.” They will act like they own the place, just you wait.” 

“Guys?” Dani interrupted their conversation and nudged her head to the window so they could all pay attention to what she was seeing. “I doubt we will have to wait much longer.” Through Gil’s office window they saw a group of people looking very much like feds, walking in. 

The team took a better look at the newcomers, trying to assess them before they got a chance to meet them. They first saw a very serious man, looking uptight with a black suit and short black hair, frowning at everyone. Out of all of them, he seemed like the most stereotypical fed. Malcolm could easily see the man was carrying two guns, one in his holster and the other hidden under his pants near his ankle. 

Then, there was an older man, slightly grey beard and graying hair. He was walking more casually than his coworker, had a tie but his shirt was slightly unbuttoned and was sporting a blazer. Malcolm thought he looked somewhat familiar but he couldn't place him. He was tense and assessing the place. 

Next to him, was a tall man, looking slightly out of place and the least intimidating out of all of them. He had short hair, curly at the front. He was wearing a pair of converse shoes, a button up shirt with a blazer and a purple sweater vest. He was carrying a brown, very worn out messenger bag and was looking a bit uncomfortable at being around so many people. Malcolm could somewhat relate, but he still did not like that the feds were here at all. He was talking to another one in his group, shorter than him but still tall, buff and had a dark green t-shirt. He was tensed up as he walked but had a smile on his face from something the lanky guy said. 

Last but not least, they saw as two women walked in. One was carrying a stack of papers, possibly the evidence case files that were sent to them earlier. She was blonde and was also dressed normally. From first glance she did not look like a fed but Malcolm saw the look on her face and it was clear she worked with the team, possibly a profiler too. Dani looked at the woman next to her, she was definitely not hard on the eyes, wearing a blazer and a purple button up. She had black hair with bangs and Dani had a sense she would be someone not to piss off. 

“Well then, let's go meet the enemy.” Bright said chirply and was the first one to walk out of the room. 

“Bright, no.” Gil sighed and went after him. He better be the one to be introduced first to avoid any Bright-related miscommunication problems. 

**___________________**

Carrying a stack of iPads and a singular paper file, Garcia nearly runs into Spencer, who’s doing a bit of a balancing act between his book and travel mug. 

After glancing at the objects in her hands, Spencer grimaces. “New case?”

“Mmhm,” Garcia confirms, eyeing Spencer’s coffee. “Bright and early!”

“It’s not that early,” Spencer points out. “It’s seven oh three.”

Already making his way up to the round table, Morgan counters, “Too early for those of us who don’t live off of straight coffee,”

“I don’t live off of straight coffee.”

Nodding, Garcia gives a smile, “Reid’s right. He has a healthy amount of sugar in there.”

“Only you would argue about that being a healthy amount of sugar.” Comes the friendly natured murmur from Morgan.

Other than making a face, Spencer doesn’t reply. Even though he has the amount of daily sugar intake recommended for adult males in both milligrams and ounces at the ready.

Surprisingly, the rest of the team is already seated, waiting for the case information.

“So where’re we goin’ now, Baby Girl?” Morgan starts, even without knowing anything going on.

“New York City!” She delightfully supplies. “Maybe our resident genius will finally get some time to do some sight seeing.”

Waving her on, Hotch requests, “The case, please.”

“Right. So,” Handing out the iPads, along with the singular paper file for Spencer, Garcia begins. “There have been six bodies identified by the local PD, and they believe that all have come from the same unsub.”

“What makes them think that?”

Avoiding looking at the pictures up on the screen, Garcia replies, “They were all found inside of art galleries, and all had the same symbol on their left ankles. Carved in.”

Glancing up, Emily questions, “Does the symbol have any meaning? Does it exist outside of these murders?”

Shrugging, Garcia honestly replies, “I don’t know.”

“Reid, do you recognize them?”

Glancing at Hotch’s question, Spencer shakes his head. “No. Nothing that I’ve ever seen before.”

“And you’ve seen it all,” Rossi murmurs.

“Does the local PD have any leads yet?”

With the shake of her head, Garcia replies, “Not that I’ve heard. That’s why they called us in. Or rather, that’s why the higher ups called us in.”

“The ‘higher ups’?” Emily questions with a frown.

“Mmhm. Apparently the team working the case was rather adamant to not have us help.”

Spencer frowns, reading through his file once again. “Six people have already died. Why wouldn’t they have wanted our help?”

“Dunno,” Garcia replies with a shrug.

“The unsub is accelerating, putting us on a precious timeline,” Hotch suddenly announces, “Whether or not they want our help, we need to get there as quickly as possible. Wheels up in twenty.”

With that, the team of profilers disperces, mostly to their desks, save for Garcia who heads straight to her batcave. 

Before they head to the jet, Morgan makes himself a home on top of Spencer’s desk, legs nearly reaching the floor. Barely stopping himself from spinning in his chair, Spencer looks up and questions again, “Why don’t they want our help? If six people are dead, five in the last week, there’s no telling how quickly the next victim will fall.”

“C’mon Pretty Boy,” Morgan starts, “You know that there are always _those_ precincts. The ones that never seem to want our help, and just get in the way of the entire investigation.”

Humming, Spencer agrees with a nod. “Hopefully we’ll be able to solve the case quickly then. I’m not exactly fond of non welcoming precincts.” With a mumble he adds, “They often appreciate me the least.”

Before Morgan can soothe any anxieties, Emily pops her head up from her desk. “Unwelcoming precincts can be sort of fun.”

“How, exactly?”

“JJ and I make bets on how long it’ll take until we’re propositioned.”

With a well natured snort, Morgan questions, “You think that it’s gonna be a sexist precinct?”

“All the New York ones are old. And more often than not, the cops are uninviting to women, you can’t deny that.”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” Morgan sighs. “You both want a ride to the airstrip?”

Already slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder, Spencer nods, “Yes please.”

“Prentiss?”

After weighing her options for a fraction of a second, she shakes her head. “Nah. After we’re done I want to take my own car home.”

“Usually we have to do paperwork after the case,” Spencer points out.

“Yeah,” She nods, “But I can go straight home if I have my own car. It’s a tactical maneuver, Reid. It’s like playing chess.”

Giving her a look as she heads out the glass doors, Spencer mumbles, “That doesn’t sound anything like chess.”

Finally hopping off his desk, Morgan just shakes his head. “C’mon kid. Don’t want to be late to the jet.”

“I need to refill my coffee,”

“You definitely don’t,” Morgan counters. “Isn’t that like your fourth cup already?”

Deciding that it would be in his best interests to not answer, Spencer just mumbles.

“Besides, they have coffee on the plane.”

“It tastes bad,” Spencer points out, but still dutifully follows Morgan out of the bullpen. “All gross and bitter.”

“That’s how coffee’s supposed to taste.”

“Yeah, they never have enough sugar on the jet.”

Morgan pauses in mid step. “I wonder why.”

By the time the duo reach the jet, Hotch has already laid out all of the files, frown covering most of the older man’s face.

Across the seat from him, Rossi has an equally tense frown, scribbling something down on a notepad before tucking it in his breast pocket.

“What’s got mom and dad in a funk?” Morgan asks, settling down next to JJ.

She just shrugs in response, opening her own file.

“Hotch, what’s up man?”

Without taking his eyes off of the file, Hotch shakes his head. “Something about the victims isn’t adding up.”

“In what sense?” Morgan presses.

This time, Rossi is the one to reply. “Don’t know yet, but I’ve got the feeling too.”

Jumping into the conversation, Spencer supplies, “The acceleration is severe. Whoever they are, they’re relentless to nearly the point of delusion.”

With raised eyebrows, Morgan questions, “You think that we’re dealing with a delusional unsub?”

“How many sane people do you know that could kill four people in one week?”

“In our line of work?”

Frowning, Spencer concedes, “That’s true.”

“There’s too many variables right now,” Hotch murmurs, leaning back in his seat with a defeated sigh. “We don’t know enough with just the pictures from evidence.”

“Not to mention the file is pretty thin,” JJ agrees. This precinct really doesn’t want our help, huh?”

After a few mumbles across the jet, everyone sinks into the work, tensions running high. While the jet is mostly for resting and comradery after cases, the flight in couldn’t be more different. Everyone on the team knows that if they don’t work hard enough, another person could die. And at the rate the unsub is killing, it’s probably going to be more than one.

While Rossi nearly obsessively turns his pen around his fingers, Hotch stays perfectly still, save for his eyes, jumping between witness statements. The flight isn’t long, but Hotch’s frown deepens every second that they’re still in the air.

On the other side of the jet, Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan all share ideas between each other, as far as getting in and out of art galleries. Planning it seems like an Ocean’s Eleven heist, but backwards.

Instead of sneaking art out, the unsub is sneaking bodies in.

Clicking his tongue, Morgan suddenly announces, “The vents. They could use the vents, right?”

Before either JJ or Prentiss can respond, Spencer takes a pen cap out of his mouth to counter, “Not possible. The vents aren’t large enough.”

“You’ve been listening to us?”

“Oh c’mon,” Prentiss starts, “There’s no way that you know how large the radius of an industrial vent is. Besides, wouldn’t all of the galleries have different ones?”

“I don’t need to know the radius if I know that the average velocity pressure in h/vac systems is eighty-one percent of centraline pressure.” Oblivious to the looks, Spencer continues, “Although art galleries have open space, the room itself would need to also have numerous windows for the OSHA approved smallest possible size of vent to be large enough for a human to fit in. We can assume that the galleries would use the smallest possible size vents because it’s cheapest, and if the galleries are open, we can assume that they fit OSHA guidelines.”

“I know I shouldn’t even ask this,” Morgan murmurs, “But how the hell do you know that?”

A small smile coming to his face, Spencer questions, “Would you like to know the equations I used?”

“Nope,” Prentiss quickly replies, popping the ‘p’. “Okay, so it can’t be vents. “What about a ceiling space? Between light fixtures and the roof?”

Shaking her head, JJ pulls one of the evidence photos out. “According to the pictures we were sent, nothing in the ceiling or the roof were displaced.”

“And no fingerprints?”

“Nope.”

“Any hair left at the scene?”

“Nope.”

“Any-”

“Morgan,” Prentiss finally speaks up, “The local PD would’ve already solved this if there was DNA left at the scene, you know this. There weren’t even finger prints on the victims’ bodies.”

Making a few quick connections in his head, Spencer questions, “Was there any residue from gloves?”

JJ shakes her head once again.

After Spencer mouths something, Morgan gives him a light punch on the shoulder. “What’s goin’ through your brain, Pretty Boy?”

“If there wasn’t any evidence of fingerprints, nor glove marking, that narrows down what the unsub could’ve used to handle the bodies.”

“Unless they’ve washed them,” Prentiss replies, only half joking.

Not picking up on it, Spencer just nods in agreement. “Unless they’ve washed them.” He echos. “Or if they scrubbed them down with another base.”

“Another what?”

“Something with a higher pH level than seven.”

Although he takes the information into consideration, Morgan still fondly replies, “Nerd,” With a grin. 

“However,” Spencer begins again, hands fidgeting with excitement, “If they were to use a stronger base, we would be able to see a reaction between the dried blood and the base that they used on the body.”

“I hate to interrupt this,” Comes Prentiss’ murmur, not sounding very apologetic, “But do we actually need to know this for the case?”

With a slow nod, Spencer replies, “Probably not. But still, it’s interesting!”

Looking down at her files, JJ flashes a quick smile, “I failed my first highschool chemistry class.”

From a few feet away, Hotch suddenly looks up. “Reid, how long does it take for blood to dry?”

“On what surface?”

“Skin.”

“Are they alive? What’s the core body temperature?”

Rossi sends Spencer a strange look at the same time as Hotch’s response, “Assume that the body has just stopped circulating blood.”

“If the surface starts out at thirty-seven degrees, and steadily goes down to room temperature, say twenty, over the course of…” Slowly fading out, Spencer mouths a few things before confidently answering, “One hundred minutes, standard deviation of approximately twenty minutes.”

“You figured out the _standard deviation?”_ Prentiss questions. “Don’t you need to have a bunch of samples to do that?”

With a smile, Spencer just nods. “The reports I’ve read are my samples.”

Ignoring his pseudo children, Hotch announces, “The bodies were definitely killed in a different location. If we can figure out where they were killed, Reid can start a geographical profile.”

“And it’ll give us a better idea of what kinds of people the unsub is hunting for,” Rossi supplies.

With a sigh, JJ reminds everyone, “We only know where the victims lived, not where they were last seen. That’s something that we’re going to need to figure out when we get there.”

“Does that mean I’ll be staying at the precinct when it’s wheels down?” Spencer questions.

Before anyone else can answer, Hotch muses, “We’re all going to go to the precinct when we touch down, to meet their detectives. We’ll fan out afterward.”

“Who are they, by the way?” Morgan asks, directed toward no one in particular.

“Who?”

“The detectives that we’re working with.”

Holding up a paper, JJ answers, “There’s a few. Senior Detective Arroyo, Detective Tarmel, and Detective Powell.”

“They’re all detectives? No average cops?” Morgan asks.

“All but one.”

“Who’s the cop?”

Shaking his head, Hotch replies, “Not a cop. Apparently they also have a consultant on their team?”

“A civvy?”

Reaching over to smack Morgan’s arm, JJ chastises, “Don’t call them that,” Before turning back to Hotch. “Who’s the consultant?”

“Someone named Malcolm Bright.”

“Huh,” Morgan shrugs, “Never heard of him.”

“Were you expecting to?” Prentiss snorts.

“Not necessarily, but I felt like we had all the hype up, you know?”

“No.” Prentiss shakes her head, attempting a deadpan, but still doesn’t succeed at hiding a smile.

Checking his watch, Hotch interrupts their bickering with, “We’re touching down in a few minutes. Everyone get your seat belts on.”

“Yes, dad.”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me dad,” Hotch mutters.

Whipping his head around, Morgan questions, “Wait, you heard the first one?”

With a look, Hotch points out, “I was ten feet away. My hearing isn't that bad.”

“Besides,” Prentiss grins, “I’m pretty sure we were referring to Rossi as dad. You’re more of a mom.”

Looking up to the ceiling of the jet, Hotch warns, “You’re all getting reprimanded when we get home.”

“Wait- what did I do?” Spencer questions, looking between the two parties.

“You were a witness,” Prentiss seamlessly replies, bringing her voice down low. “And you know what happens to witnesses,” She adds, miming a punch in her own hand.

All she gets in response is a surprisingly scared look from Spencer.

Shaking his head, Hotch murmurs something sounding suspiciously close to “children,” before attempting to absorb himself in a file he’s already read through four and a half times.

The airstrip is only a few miles away from the local precinct, and the BAU all file themselves into two SUVs, Morgan driving one, and Hotch the other. All of the team is grateful that Prentiss isn’t one of the drivers.

Say what they will about Morgan’s driving, but compared to Prentiss’, it could be a nice drive through residential areas.

Having just ended a conversation with Hotch, Spencer scurries out of the car a second after the older man, ducking his head to drape the messenger bag over his body. As per usual, he tries to get it to cover the maximum amount of surface area over his body. New precincts always set him on edge.

Looking around though, Spencer knows that the rest of the team doesn’t quite feel the same way. Luckily, Morgan seems to pick up on his anxiety, and instantly jumps into a random story from his football days, explicitly exaggerating it so Spencer can get distracted by the errors.

Despite the fact that Morgan’s doing it for years, the kid still hasn’t picked up on it. Or if he has, he certainly hasn’t said anything about the fact. 

From behind him, Morgan can hear Prentiss and JJ in light conversation, but he doesn’t pay any mind to it. “You ready, Pretty Boy?”

“For what?”

“It’s like the first day of highschool, all over again.”

**Author's Note:**

> We really hope that you enjoyed this chapter! We love talking with you all, and if you’d like to, you can stop by our tumblrs! Appalachian’s is [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/appalachianapologies) (AppalachianApologies), and BrightTerror’s is [here](https://brightterror.tumblr.com/) (BrightTerror) and [here!](https://sherlock-freud.tumblr.com/) (Sherlock-Freud)
> 
> We love you all very much, and we hope that you all are doing okay. If you find yourself in a bad or scary situation, here are some hotlines (Please keep in mind that the written out numbers are US hotlines)
> 
> National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255  
> National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673  
> National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233
> 
> If you don't live in America and need someone to talk to, here's a list of [international hotlines.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines)  
> You are not alone, and we love you all <3


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